Master

O Lord of Nature, sovereign Sun of all!
Who, if not Thou, will speak of Thee?
Thy smile of Grace through Eternity
Frees all aspiring souls from night's dumb call.

Reality Unique! Thou art the ring,
Of the lowest chasm and spanless height.
In Thee they feel their haven bright;
In Thee all beings move and wave and wing.

To see Thy all transcending mystic Form
No vision have we of golden gaze;
Thou are the noon of all our days,
The veerless Pilot in our death's stark storm.

Sri Chinmoy

Don't say that I will depart tomorrow --
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his "debt of blood" to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

Thich Nhat Han 1989

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn and scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.

Maya Angleou

The Universal Way

The Universal Way is the destination
of all spiritual efforts of human kind.
It serves all people's lives,
everywhere and always.

The Universal Way conveys the deep truth
of all conscious elaborations of the human mind.
It contains the vast and profound essence
of the human spirit.
Thus it transcends all religious teachings,
leaving them behind,
like the clothing of a bygone season.

The Universal Way is the goal of all sciences,
but is not locked at the level of the intellect.
It cuts through all wasteful skepticism
and inexhaustible searching.
Thus it surpasses all sciences,
leaving them behind
like historical relics of the past.

The Subtle Essence that is sought
by all sciences and all religions
transcends all attempts to reach it
by means of thought, belief or experiment.
The Universal Way leads directly to it
and guides you to reach it yourself
by uniting with the Integral Nature of the Universe.

The Universal Way is like the master key
to all doors leading to the inner room
of ultimate truth.
It is the master teaching of all teachings,
yet it relies on no religions and no experiments.
There is no need for intellectual or emotional detours
that cannot serve the lives of all people
everywhere and always.
Follow the Universal Way beyond all boundaries
to the heart and essence of natural life itself.

Esoteric Tao Teh Ching
by Hua-Ching Ni

I came to the conclusion long ago …
that all religions were true and also
that all had some error in them,
and whilst I hold by my own,
I should hold others as dear as Hinduism.
So we can only pray, if we are Hindus,
not that a Christian should become a Hindu …
But our innermost prayer should be
a Hindu should be a better Hindu,
a Muslim a better Muslim,
a Christian a better Christian.

Gandhi

UK Government Classifies Eco Activists as 'Extremists' Alongside Al Qaeda

Are these Extremists? The UK Government thinks so. Image via the Guardian

Some disturbing news has just surfaced in the UK--it appears that its Ministry of Justice has taken to listing environmental protesters and activists alongside al Qaeda terrorists in its system for classifying 'extremists'. The British newspaper the Guardian made the unsettling discovery when it gained access to some internal documents from the government.

Guidance Document Lists Eco Activists as Extremists
According to the paper,

The guidance [document] on extremism, produced by the Ministry of Justice, says: "The United Kingdom like many other countries faces a continuing threat from extremists who believe they can advance their aims by committing acts of terrorism." It was sent to probation staff who were writing court reports or supervising a range of activists, including environmental protesters.

This 'guidance' evidently highlights "environmental extremists" as belonging to the same group as dissident Irish republicans, loyalist paramilitaries, and al-Qaeda-inspired extremists.

But the parameters of "environmental extremist" are so ill-defined that someone vocally marching in support of a coal plant closure may feasibly be included in its list.

Outcry has already erupted in the UK over the classification, since it lumps peaceful environmental protesters in with violent terrorists. The Guardian reports that "David Howarth, the Liberal Democrats' justice spokesman, said tonight that the documents revealed "a quite astonishing conflation of legitimate protest with terrorism"."

Weird? Maybe. Extremist? Hardly.

Opens Peaceful Protesters to 'Extremist' Classification
In recent years, the UK government has faced criticism "for tarring environmental protesters as "domestic extremists", a term invented by the police, who say it can cover activists suspected of minor public order offences such as peaceful direct action and civil disobedience," according to the Guardian. As a result, since the guidance paper lists the criteria for being an environmental extremist as one engaging in "criminal activity motivated by the broad philosophy and social movement centred on a concern for conservation and improvement of the natural environment," it leaves those engaging in civil disobedience on the same roll call as dangerous terrorists.

Take this, for example--are these Greenpeace protesters deserving of the 'extremist' label?

Or these protesters, speaking out against coal power in Chicago? 8 of them were arrested in the course of peaceful protest--for blocking traffic flow. So it could be argued that they engaged in criminal activity--but are they extremists?

We recently saw a similar classification take place here in the US, when our government classified PETA as terrorists. And I think many of the same lessons can be drawn here. Most can agree that there is a line to be drawn between such "extremists"--one who is peacefully marching in protest, even if trespassing, should hardly be considered in the same category as those willing to inflict violence on others in the name of their cause. Such classifications as 'extremism' are no doubt hard to define--but civil disobedience and nonviolent protest should hardly qualify.

Treehugger

My past is heavy with
The lifeless
Meaning.
A frightened thought
My fast-approaching future
Is.
I have the body and soul
Of hope completely in my
Thoughts.
I shout at the top of my lungs.
My soul embodies the weight of
Despair.
At last I am now learning the art of listening
to God's
Voice.
"Son, in your soulful silence is
My fruitful message."

Sri Chinmoy

There is no where in you a paradise that is no place and there
You do not enter except without a story.

To enter there is to become unnameable.

Whoever is nowhere is nobody, and therefore cannot exist except as unborn:
No disguise will avail him anything

Such a one is neither lost nor found.

But he who has an address is lost.

They fall, they fall into apartments and are securely established!

They find themselves in streets. They are licensed
To proceed from place to place
They now know their own names
They can name several friends and know
Their own telephones must some time ring.

If all telephones ring at once, if all names are shouted at once and all cars crash at one crossing:
If all cities explode and fly away in dust
Yet identities refuse to be lost. There is a name and a number for everyone.

There is a definite place for bodies, there are pigeon holes for ashes:
Such security can business buy!

Who would dare to go nameless in so secure a universe?
Yet, to tell the truth, only the nameless are at home in it.

They bear with them in the center of nowhere the unborn flower of nothing:
This is the paradise tree. It must remain unseen until words end and arguments are silent.

Thomas Merton

Success and failure? No known address.
This or that goes on, depending on the other.
And who can say if Milord Shao was happier
ruling a city, or sacked, his excellent melon patch?
Hot, cold, summer, winter: don't they alternate?
Mayn't a man's way wander on just so?
Yes, those who "get there" know their opportunities...
have learned to untie the knots of knowledge.
But was it the notable or the notorious that our Sage spoke of?
The latter he called opportunists. Those who get there, doubtless,
know doubt nor care no more. Yet, doubt you not, nor do dead generals,
who plotted carefully at what seemed opportune,
and knew naught, right or wrong.
If, of a sudden, you're offered fine wine,
let the sun sink. Enjoy it.

T'ao Ch'ien

The birds have vanished down the sky.
Now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.

Li Po

Subterranean Homesick Blues

Johnny's in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat
Badge out, laid off
Says he's got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It's somethin' you did
God knows when
But you're doin' it again
You better duck down the alley way
Lookin' for a new friend
The man in the coon-skin cap
In the big pen
Wants eleven dollar bills
You only got ten

Maggie comes fleet foot
Face full of black soot
Talkin' that the heat put
Plants in the bed but
The phone's tapped anyway
Maggie says that many say
They must bust in early May
Orders from the D. A.
Look out kid
Don't matter what you did
Walk on your tip toes
Don't try "No Doz"
Better stay away from those
That carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don't need a weather man
To know which way the wind blows

Get sick, get well
Hang around a ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell
If anything is goin' to sell
Try hard, get barred
Get back, write braille
Get jailed, jump bail
Join the army, if you fail
Look out kid
You're gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
Six-time losers
Hang around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin' for a new fool
Don't follow leaders
Watch the parkin' meters

Ah get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles

Bob D.

Truly there is no cause for you
to be miserable and unhappy.
You yourself impose limitations
on your true nature of infinite
Being and then weep that you are
but a finite creature. Then you take up
this or that sadhana to transcend
the nonexistent limitations.
But if your sadhana itself assumes
the existence of the limitations,
how can it help you to transcend them?
Hence I say know that you are really
the infinite, pure Being, the Self Absolute.
You are always that Self and nothing but
that Self. Therefore, you can never be really
ignorant of the Self; your ignorance is
merely a formal ignorance...
Know then that true Knowledge does
not create a new Being for you; it only
removes your "ignorant ignorance."
Bliss is not added to your nature;
it is merely revealed as your true and
natural state, eternal and imperishable.
The only way to be rid of your grief is
to know and be the Self.

Ramana Maharshi

Some stories last many centuries,
others only a moment.
All alter over that lifetime like beach-glass,
grow distant and more beautiful with salt.

Yet even today, to look at a tree
and ask the story Who are you? is to be transformed.

There is a stage in us where each being, each thing, is a mirror.

Then the bees of self pour from the hive-door,
ravenous to enter the sweetness of flowering nettles and thistle.

Next comes the ringing a stone or violin or empty bucket
gives off
the immeasurable's continuous singing,
before it goes back into story and feeling.

In Borneo, there are palm trees that walk on their high roots.
Slowly, with effort, they lift one leg then another.

I would like to join that stilted transmigration,
to feel my own skin vertical as theirs:
an ant-road, a highway for beetles.

I would like not minding, whatever travels my heart.
To follow it all the way into leaf-form, bark-furl, root-touch,
and then keep walking, unimaginably further.

Jane Hirshfield

The peace of wild things

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell berry

One of my favorite songs

If you'd like to walk a while
We could waste the day
Follow me into the trees
I will lead the way

Bring some change up to the bridge
Bring some alcohol
There we'll make a final wish
Just before the fall

Promise I will be forever yours
Promise not to say another word
Nevermind, what's done is done
Always was a lucky one

Watch the sunrise all alone
Sitting on the tracks
Hear the train come roaring in
Never coming back

Laying quiet in the grass
Everything is still
River stones and broken bones
Scattered on the hill

Promise I will be forever yours
Promise not to say another word
Nevermind what's done is done
Always was a lucky one

Promise I will be forever yours
Promise not to say another word
Here forever deep beneath the dirt
Nevermind, what's done is done
Always was a lucky one

foo fighters

I have a dream,
that my four little
children will one day live
in a nation where they will not
be judged by the color of their skin
but by the content of their
character. I
have a
dream
today!

Martin Luther King, Jr

The
most
thoroughly and
relentlessly Damned,
banned, excluded, condemned,
forbidden, ostracized, ignored, suppressed,
repressed, robbed, brutalized and defamed
of all Damned Things is the individual human being.
The social engineers, statistician, psychologist, sociologists,
market researchers, landlords, bureaucrats, captains of industry,
bankers, governors, commissars, kings and presidents are perpetually forcing
this Damned Thing into carefully prepared blueprints and perpetually irritated
that the Damned Thing will not fit into the slot assigned it. The theologians
call it a sinner and try to reform it. The governor calls it
a criminal and tries to punish it. the psychologist
calls it a neurotic and tries to cure it.
Still, the Damned Thing
will not fit into
their
slots.

Robert Anton Wilson

Among other things.

Hollywood

I have followed floater for years they're Fucking awesome live!
Great lyrics.

To know Tao
meditate
and still the mind.
Knowledge comes with perseverance.

The Way is neither full nor empty;
a modest and quiet nature understands this.
The empty vessel, the uncarved block;
nothing is more mysterious.

When enlightenment arrives
don't talk too much about it;
just live it in your own way.
With humility and depth, rewards come naturally.

The fragrance of blossoms soon passes;
the ripeness of fruit is gone in a twinkling.
Our time in this world is so short,
better to avoid regret:
Miss no opportunity to savor the ineffable.

Like a golden beacon signaling on a moonless night,
Tao guides our passage through this transitory realm.
In moments of darkness and pain
remember all is cyclical.
Sit quietly behind your wooden door:
Spring will come again.

Loy Ching-Yuen

There is love, and it is a deep thing
but there are deeper things than love.

First and last, man is alone.
He is born alone, and alone he dies
and alone he is while he lives, in his deepest self.

Love, like the flowers, is life, growing.
But underneath are the deep rocks, the living rock that lives
alone
and deeper still the unknown fire, unknown and heavy, heavy
and alone.

Love is a thing of twoness.
But underneath any twoness, man is alone.

And underneath the great turbulent emotions of love, the
violent herbage,
lies the living rock of a single creature's pride,
the dark, naif pride.
And deeper even than the bedrock of pride
lies the ponderous fire of naked life
with its strange primordial consciousness of justice
and its primordial consciousness of connection,
connection with still deeper, still more terrible life-fire
and the old, old final life-truth.

Love is of twoness, and is lovely
like the living life on the earth
but below all roots of love lies the bedrock of naked pride,
subterranean,
and deeper than the bedrock of pride is the primordial fire of
the middle
which rests in connection with the further forever unknowable
fire of all things
and which rocks with a sense of connection, religion
and trembles with a sense of truth, primordial consciousness
and is silent with a sense of justice, the fiery primordial
imperative.

All this is deeper than love
deeper than love.

D.H.Lawrence

Sorrow, why war?
by Paul Collier
©, 2008, 2009 All rights reserved.
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at home, with eyes closed, thoughts of the never ending wars came into my mind, and I started to wander, how on earth did we ever let differences turn into war, why did difference of opinion, religion, lack or money etc etc become so important that one group of human beings had to force their views onto another group of humans even if that meant innocent people being injured and killed? Why is it that each one of these groups believes they are the ones in the right and the other side is "the enemy" Its just all so sad, We are one world, Some believe that this world needs one ruler, some believe that the answer is simply being, I believe we should have the choice. we should not have to go along with the majority view, the majority has been wrong many times in history, lets all just live our lives and let others live theres. Sadly, this is dream that is doubtful to happen :(

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You can donate to Red Cross International Relief Fund by visiting http://www.redcross.org or
UNICEF by visiting http://www.unicef.org

The extent of the devastation is still unclear but there are fears thousands of people may have died.

Haiti's worst earthquakequake in two centuries hit south of the capital Port-au-Prince on Tuesday, wrecking the presidential palace, UN HQ and other buildings.

A "large number" of UN personnel were reported missing by the organisation. Many people have spent the night outside amid fears of more aftershocks.

The Red Cross says up to three million people have been affected.

Describing the earthquake as a "catastrophe", Haiti's envoy to the US said the cost of the damage could run into billions.

A number of nations including the US, UK and Venezuela are gearing up to send aid.

The powerful earthquake of 7.0 magnitude that hit Haiti yesterday may have affected up to 3 million people, with the worst damage in the capital Port-au-Prince and nearby coastal city of Jacmel.

UNICEF staff in Haiti are providing emergency aid, including supplies of clean water and sanitation facilities. The first wave of UNICEF emergency supplies enough for 10,000 families have already been airlifted into Port-au-Prince. This includes 10,000 tarpaulins, 4,600 water containers, 5.5 million water purification tablets, more than half a million oral rehydration sachets, tents and trauma kits. Further supply flights will arrive over the coming days.

A Song Of Despair

The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.

Deserted like the dwarves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!

Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
From you the wings of the song birds rose.

You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!

It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.

Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver,
turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank!

In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded.
Lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire,
sadness stunned you, in you everything sank!

I made the wall of shadow draw back,
beyond desire and act, I walked on.

Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost,
I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you.

Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness.
and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

There was the black solitude of the islands,
and there, woman of love, your arms took me in.

There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.
There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle.

Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me
in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms!

How terrible and brief my desire was to you!
How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid.

Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.

Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs,
oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies.

Oh the mad coupling of hope and force
in which we merged and despaired.

And the tenderness, light as water and as flour.
And the word scarcely begun on the lips.

This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing,
and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank!

Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you,
what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned!

From billow to billow you still called and sang.
Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel.

You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents.
Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well.

Pale blind diver, luckless slinger,
lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour
which the night fastens to all the timetables.

The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.
Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands.

Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.

It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!

Pablo Neruda

Tracy Reines, Director of the International Response Operations Center at the American Red Cross, discusses the latest for the response to the earthquake in Haiti as of 8 PM EST on Wednesday night. For more information on how you can help visit http://www.redcross.org

I
The eye you see is not
an eye because you see it;
it is an eye because it sees you.

II
To talk with someone,
ask a question first,
then -- listen.

III
Narcissism
is an ugly fault,
and now it's a boring fault too.

IV
But look in your mirror for the other one,
the other one who walks by your side.

V
Between living and dreaming
there is a third thing.
Guess it.

VI
This Narcissus of ours
can't see his face in the mirror
because he has become the mirror.

VII
New century? Still
firing up the same forge?
Is the water still going along in its bed?

VIII
Every instant is Still.

IX
The sun in Aries. My window
is open to the cool air.
Oh the sound of the water far off!
The evening awakens the river.

X
In the old farmhouse
-- a high tower with storks! --
the gregarious sound falls silent,
and in the field where no on is,
water makes a sound among the rocks.

XI
Just as before, I'm interested
in water held in;
but now water in living
rock of my chest.

XII
When you hear water, does its sound tell you
if it's from a mountain or farm,
city street, formal garden, or orchard?

XIII
What I find surprises me:
leaves of the garden balm
smell of lemonwood.

XIV
Don't trace out your profile,
forget your side view --
all that is outer stuff.

XV
Look for your other half
who walks always next to you
and tends to be what you aren't.

XVI
When spring comes,
go to the flowers --
why keep on sucking wax?

XVII
In my solitude
I have seen things very clearly
that were not true.

XVIII
Water is good, so is thirst;
shadow is good, so is sun;
the honey from the rosemarys
and the honey of the bare fields.

XIX
Only one creed stands:
quod elixum est ne asato.
Don't roast what's already boiled.

XX
Sing on, sing on, sing on,
the cricket in his cage
near his darling tomato.

XXI
Form your letters slowly and well:
making things well
is more important than making them.

XXII
All the same...
Ah yes! All the same,
moving the legs fast is important,
as the snail said to the greyhound.

XXIII
There are really men of action now!
The marsh was dreaming
of its mosquitoes.

XXIV
Wake up, you poets:
let echoes end,
and voices begin.

XXV
But don't hunt for dissonance;
because, in the end, there is no dissonance.
When the sound is heard people dance.

XXVI
What the poet is searching for
is not the fundamental I
but the deep you.

XXVII
The eyes you're longing for --
listen now --
the eyes you see yourself in
are eyes because they see you.

XXVIII
Beyond living and dreaming
there is something more important:
waking up.

XXIX
Now someone has come up with this!
Cogito ergo non sum.
What an exaggeration!

XXX
I thought my fire was out,
and stirred the ashes...
I burnt my fingers.

XXXI
Pay attention now:
a heart that's all by itself
is not a heart.

XXXII
I've caught a glimpse of him in dreams:
expert hunter of himself,
every minute in ambush.

XXXIII
He caught his bad man:
the one who on sunny days
walks with head down.

XXXIV
If a poem becomes common,
passed around, hand to hand, it's OK:
gold is chosen for coins.

XXXV
If it's good to live,
then it's better to be asleep dreaming,
and best of all,
mother, is to awake.

XXXVI
Sunlight is good for waking,
but I prefer bells --
the best thing about morning.

XXXVII
Among the figs I am soft.
Among the rocks I am hard.
That's bad!

XXXVIII
When I am alone
how close my friends are;
when I am with them
how distant they are!

XXXIX
Now, poet, your prophecy?
“Tomorrow what is dumb will speak,
the human heart and the stone.”

XL
But art?
It is pure and intense play,
so it is like pure and intense life,
so it is like pure and intense fire.
You'll see the coal burning.

Antonio Machado

Because
the hour is late.
Because early detection,
rapid response, and mass mobilization
can work to stop injustice, calamity,
and war as well as they can
work to stop a
pandemic.

Earth Nation Live

If the
red slayer
thinks he slays,
Or if the slain thinks
he is slain,
They know not well
the subtle
ways
I keep,
and pass, and
turn

again.

Far or
forgot to me is near;
Shadow and sunlight are the same;
The vanquished gods
to me appear;
And one to me
are shame
and fame.

They
reckon ill
who leave me out;
When me they fly,
I am the wings;
I am the

doubter

and the doubt,
And I the hymn the
Brahmin sings.

The
strong gods
pine for my abode,
And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
But thou, meek lover
of the good!
Find me, and
turn thy back

on heaven.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

TIBETANS who trekked to the caves and forests of India to absorb
Buddhist teachings a thousand years ago discovered female tantric
masters, called yogini, practicing esoteric disciplines with bands of
female followers. Fierce, independent and strict, yogini conveyed
their secrets to men longing to be initiated, propelling the
development of tantric Buddhism. Then these extraordinary women
dropped out of sight.

But not out of mind. Their beatified counterparts dance in the heart
of mandalas throughout the Tibetan pantheon. "Female energy is as
capable as male energy in the spiritual field," said Kyabje Gehlek
Rinpoche, a Tibetan lama and Buddhist teacher ("rinpoche" means
"precious one") sent to the West by the Dalai Lama's tutors. Gehlek
Rinpoche, known in spiritual circles for his closeness to the poet
Allen Ginsberg (and for ministering to Ginsberg as he died), is the
founder of Tibetan Buddhist centers in Ann Arbor, Mich., and in SoHo.

On a recent morning, he was sitting before the deity Tara, envisioned
in an 18th-century thangka (at right), on display in "Female Buddhas:
Women of Enlightenment in Tibetan Mystical Art," at the Rubin Museum
of Art in Chelsea. "The need of this time is for a female presence,"
he said.

Tara made a vow to manifest in the world as a female, Gehlek Rinpoche
(pronounced Rin-po-shay) explained. "The bodhisattvas all said, 'Tara,
you could be anybody you want; you could be male.' Tara replied,
'Thank you, but no thank you.' " She chose a female body to illuminate
the way for all beings. "Her image helps us envision the buddha within
ourselves," he said. "It helps remind us we are not just physical beings."

In practicing tantric secret teachings, women are thought to have an
advantage, according to the current Dalai Lama, whereas men get higher
marks in the public forms of Tibetan Buddhism. The first Dalai Lama
(1391-1475) composed a mystical song of 21 praises to Tara, who is
said to have sprung from the ocean of tears flowing from Tibet's chief
deity, Avalokitesvara, bodhisattva of compassion.

Tara, whose name means "star" - as in the North Star, the guiding
light of those who are lost - is enlightenment energy personified. She
is passionate mother, wrathful protector, swift and fearless subduer.
Eyes flashing like lightning, she stamps her feet and sends tremors
through gods and demons alike, correcting great wrongs and fulfilling
her promise to bring divine female energies into the world.

Her exalted sisterhood is anything but meek or submissive, as is
strikingly evident in the Rubin's show and a related exhibition of the
same name at the Bruce Museum in Greenwich, Conn. Tara and her cohort
drink the blood of enemies of the dharma, prance naked on the bodies
of those they have defeated, and join with male consorts in passionate
sexual union. They are transcendent liberators, defenders of
enlightened mind, the birthright of each of us, when we turn to the
wisdom within.

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/08/07/arts/design/07lars.html?
there's a popup of Tara explaining the symbolism of colors, poses,
clothing, etc etc.

When Buddha Chooses to Be a Woman
By KAY LARSON

A bare impersonal hush is now my mind,
A world of sight clear and inimitable,
A volume of silence by a Godhead signed,
A greatness pure, virgin of will.

Once on its pages Ignorance could write
In a scribble of intellect the blind guess of Time
And cast gleam-messages of ephemeral light,
A food for souls that wander on Nature's rim.

But now I listen to a greater Word
Born from the mute unseen omniscient Ray:
The Voice that only Silence's ear has heard
Leaps missioned from an eternal glory of Day.

All turns from a wideness and unbroken peace
To a tumult of joy in a sea of wide release.

Sri Aurobindo

The effective decisions can only be
made by the independently thinking and
adequately informed human individuals and their
telepathically intercommunicated wisdom--the wisdom of
the majority of all such human
individuals--qualifying for continuance in Universe
as local cosmic problem-solvers--in
love with the truth and in
individually spontaneous self-commitment to absolute
faith in the wisdom, integrity, and
love of God, who seems to
wish Earthian humans to survive.

Buckminister Fuller

My joy --
My Hunger --
My Shelter --
My Friend --
My Food for the journey --
My journey's End --
You are my breath,
My hope,
My companion,
My craving,
My abundant wealth.
Without You -- my Life, my Love --
I would never have wandered across these endless countries.
You have poured out so much grace for me,
Done me so many favors, given me so many gifts --
I look everywhere for Your love --
Then suddenly I am filled with it.
O Captain of my Heart
Radiant Eye of Yearning in my breast,
I will never be free from You
As long as I live.
Be satisfied with me, Love,
And I am satisfied.

Rabia

Sky Cries Mary

"Every Iceberg Is A Fire"

Now we are never going to meet the Galactoiods!

Ever in my life have I sought thee with my songs. It was they who led me from door to door, and with them have I felt about me, searching and touching my world.
It was my songs that taught me all the lessons I ever learnt; they showed me secret paths, they brought before my sight many a star on the horizon of my heart.
They guided me all the day long to the mysteries of the country of pleasure and pain, and, at last, to what palace gate have they brought me in the evening at the end of my journey?

Tagore

Debbie Danbrook's Official Website
http://www.healingmusic.com/

Debbie Danbrook is a performer, composer and recording artist who comes from the renowned Watazumi-Do line of Shakuhachi Masters. Danbrook is carrying on the tradition passed on to her in Japan by Tadishi Tajima with the teaching of the first Shakuhachi Master class at the university of Toronto. Danbrook specializes in the healing properties of music. The shakuhachi's revitalizing and powerful sound vibrations lead to a relaxed meditative state where healing can take place for both the player and the listener. Danbrook has released eleven CD's and performs concerts and presents workshops throughout North America and Japan.

A Brief History of the Shakuhachi
by David J. Duncavage
http://www.emptybell.org/shakuhachi.html


Shakuhachi Master David Duncavage studied with Ronnie Seldin in America and Yoshio Kurahashi in
Japan. David was Robert Jonas' first Sui Zen teacher.

The shakuhachi is an end-blown bamboo flute varying from 1.3 to over 3 feet in length. It came into Japan from China at the end of the 7th century. From this period until as late as the 12th century it was used in gagaku (court music). Little is known of the music that was played on the shakuhachi at this time, although there are some flutes from this period preserved at Shoso-In in Nara, Japan. These flutes have 6 finger holes, and were made from thin walled bamboo.

During the period between the 12th and 16th centuries, the shakuhachi is reported to have been played by a wide range of people, including: mendicant monks, the Emperor Go-Komatsu (1408), and the famous Rinzai Zen Master Ikkyu of Daitoku-ji in northern Kyoto (1394-1482). This shakuhachi was later referred to as the hitoyogiri to distinguish it from the longer, heavier, and bigger bore flutes that the mendicant monks eventually developed. These mendicant monks were later called komosô (straw mat monk), a name descriptive of their life of homeless poverty. Their numbers gradually increased, due in large part to an influx of rônin (lordless samurai) who grew in number during the period of civil wars (15-16th centuries), and especially after the Shogun, Tokugawa Ieyasu, solidified his rule over Japan in the early 17th century.

It was during the rigid, but peaceful order of Tokugawa rule known as the Edo Period, that the komosô banded together and formed a formal religious sect claiming ties back to Fuke, an eccentric Chinese Zen monk who lived during the 9th century. The government went along with the story and the Fuke sect was established in 1614 as a branch of Rinzai Zen. At this time the komosô changed their name to komusô (monks of empty nothingness), and through a special arrangement with the government, won the sole right to solicit alms by playing the shakuhachi . During this period the shakuhachi began to be made from the root section of bamboo. This method of construction greatly improved the acoustic properties of the flute as well as making it a suitable means for self-defense while on solitary pilgrimages.

The special relationship between the Fuke sect and the Tokugawa government led to the sect's dissolution in 1871 following the government's collapse during the Meiji Restoration begun in 1868. Fuke shakuhachi went underground only to surface in 1883 in the establishment of the Myoan Society at the Fuke Temple, Myoan-ji, in the old capital city of Kyoto. This society and its many players are responsible for the transmission of the Fuke shakuhachi tradition to this very day.

Komuso Sprituality

The komusô played the shakuhachi in conjunction with the practice of zazen (sitting zen) and called this suizen (blowing zen). Playing the shakuhachi was a form of sutra chanting in the Fuke Temples. As such, the shakuhachi was not considered a musical instrument but a religious tool. What resulted from this practice was a large body of music called honkyoku (original music). In the purest honkyoku, primary attention is given to each breath-sound rather than to various musical elements like melodic progression. The komusô centered their practice of shakuhachi on developing what they called their kisoku (spiritual breath) to such a degree that they would enter the state of tettei on (absolute sound) with the bamboo and everything else. Their aim was to experience enlightenment through the shakuhachi . This goal is perhaps best expressed in a komusô saying, Ichion Jobutsu: Become a Buddha in one sound.

Although there are a number of common honkyoku, many still exist which have characteristics peculiar to the Temple of origin. Regardless, however, of what Temple a honkyoku comes from, they are all a testament of the komusô 's search to blow that one sound which would lead the monk, and those listening, they believed, to enlightenment.

The scripture of the golden eternity

What name shall we give it which hath no name, the common eternal matter of the mind? If we were to call it essence, some might think it meant perfume, or gold, or honey. It is not even mind. It is not even discussible, groupable into words; it is not even endless, in fact it is not even mysterious or inscrutably inexplicable; it is what is; it is that; it is this. We could easily call the golden eternity "This." But "what's in a name?" asked Shakespeare. The golden eternity by another name would be as sweet. A Tathagata, a God, a Buddha by another name, an Allah, a Sri Krishna, a Coyote, a Brahma, a Mazda, a Messiah, an Amida, an Aremedeia, a Maitreya, a Palalakonuh, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 would be as sweet. The golden eternity is X, the golden eternity is A, the golden eternity is /\, the golden eternity is O, the golden eternity is [ ], the golden eternity is t-h-e-g-o-l-d-e-n-e-t-e-r- n-i-t-y. In the beginning was the word; before the beginning, in the beginningless infinite neverendingness, was the essence. Both the word "god" and the essence of the word, are emptiness. The form of emptiness which is emptiness having taken the form of form, is what you see and hear and feel right now, and what you taste and smell and think as you read this. Wait awhile, close your eyes, let your breathing stop three seconds or so, listen to the inside silence in the womb of the world, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, re-recognize the bliss you forgot, the emptiness and essence and ecstasy of ever having been and ever to be the golden eternity. This is the lesson you forgot.

Jack Kerouac

Composed according to ancient
silk-road music of the
Chinese Tang Dynasty
composer: Ma Di

But the silence in the mind
is when we live best, within
listening distance of the silence
we call God. This is the deep
calling to deep of the psalm-
writer, the bottomless ocean.
We launch the armada of
our thoughts on, never arriving.

It is a presence, then,
whose margins are our margins;
that calls us out over our
own fathoms. What to do
but draw a little nearer to
such ubiquity by remaining still?

R. S. Thomas

I went in for back surgury today 9a.m. this morning.
This already is improving the feeling and movement in my foot.
It is an outpatient surgery, 6 hours all told.

I'm not supposed to lift more than
10 lbs. or bend, or
twist.

Modern medicine is pretty cool.
I feel very lucky to have it.
I went for many years
being unable to afford it.

Check out the new Karate Kid trailer.

"WHAT language is thine, O sea?"

"The language of eternal question."

"What language is thy answer, O sky?

"The language of eternal silence."

Tagore